We Thought This Was Low
by pharsik
Summary: Sadik is looking for entertainment and breaking rules when both he and Canada stumble upon each other. Turkey/Canada
1. Street Walking?

There was something about sightseeing that clicked with Sadik, as strange as it would sound to anyone who knew of his personality just as well as the average country. He was worldly. Naive; in a congenial sense, but being toured around a town would be just as enjoyable as touring someone around, stranger and friend alike. Although currently the Turk had resorted to touring himself around. In a bustling downtown it was less sightseeing and more people watching, which is always easier and less suspicious (in Sadik's opinion, at the least) to do so sitting with a slice of cake and a cup of coffee, a laptop in front of him if he was feeling picturesque.

He continued meandering through the streets nonetheless, eyeing each passing store with interest but hoping more for an empty park bench to sit on. Those things were great for idle conversation – were someone to sit down with him. (Never would he stoop so low as to sit with someone for conversation; he'd look like a creep.) In contrast to the masked man's usual stubborn moods, Sadik was going so far as to avert his eyes from the sidewalk in front of him in hopes of bumping into someone to keep his interest. Cliche, yes, but the Turk found simple romanticisms just as endearing as poetry. Not that they both weren't _horribly_ cheesy.

It was a cute idea, but after walking half-sideways for nearly a minute Sadik grew frustrated, cursing the average person's coordination. The way people had their face's towards the ground staring at the screen of some technological device nowadays it was a wonder everyone wasn't just smashing into everything. It brought up the idea of echolocation or whatever it was where you could simply sense whatever surrounded you - the Turk's train of thought wasn't a most sensical one.

Another thirty seconds of exasperated sideways-walking and the smell of _something _good brought Sadik towards a prettied up, modern looking restaurant. If he was going to make the acquaintance of someone worthwhile in a fit-for-the-movies fashion it would have to be an alternative to his original idea. Not without an irritated sigh, Turkey straightened his direction and turned into the grotto's already opened entrance. Perhaps that was a marketing ploy, leave the door open to bring in whomever noted that palatable scent. An effective one, Sadik mused, before being greeted by what was most obviously a waitress.

She was pretty. Couldn't be said very enthusiastically, but the rounded face was quite cute. Small nose and big eyes, but thin lips. Could do with some lipstick too, and mascara. The Turk was rather picky when it came to someone's makeup. He himself liked a person dressing up, but it couldn't be either too little or too much. Though it was apparent that view was nearly the same with anyone else. He could only get so far as to note the bun in her hair – it was falling apart, but was a plus anyways – and the horrid stripy red shirt that appeared to be uniform for the restaurant's workers before he was distracted by the woman's voice echoing what she had said earlier, with a slightly less pleasant (or high) tone.

A pause and an awkward clearing of his throat,

"Fer one, yeah."

Clearly he was off to a good start.

There was a throng of available seats, and Sadik had an hour before the other countries (and people) starting piling downtown. More so than they already were, at least. Somehow he was able to easily steal away from the 'meeting' taking place – m_ore of a meet-up than anything – _to lay in bed until the late afternoon. Even though the meeting didn't actually start until noon, Sadik wasn't completely lying when he said he felt sick earlier that morning. A better wording would be that he felt like shit, but either way it was apparently a good enough excuse to stare at the hotel ceiling until approximately three thirty, at which point the Turk finally decided it would be justifiable to get off his ass and go downtown.

As for if he was caught; fuck it. The World Meeting was being held in Vancouver, and if anyone was going to be complaining it would be Canada himself. That of which was in no way intimidating, or even concerning for that matter. Unless of course his brother decided to but his ugly head in, and likewise with the Canadian's parents. Not that they were intimidating, just nearly as annoying as that damn Grecian. Which was nothing far from a spectacular feat in Turkey's books. He hadn't actually learnt any of that particular "family's" annoyances first hand, (not in this day and age, mind you) Sadik found just being anywhere near them was thoroughly mind-numbing, stacking up along with stories from other countries.

"Excuse me," That voice was growing familiar, the waitress must've resorted to the idea Sadik was just another crazy wandering the streets of a big city. "Can I get you a drink?"

"What would you suggest, love?" Subtle. Call her love. Sadik hadn't lost his touch of awkward, so it seemed.

An expression so vividly showcasing irritation and disgust came with the reply, and if the Turk wasn't accustomed to it he might've actually cared, but she wasn't pretty anyways.

Examining the abstract paintings, brick walls, and flicking the candle's flame sitting on the ledge beside him multiple times, Sadik cursed the blasphemous thing that was North American services. He'd already gotten a refill on the large glass of beer in front of him, and the only thing tempting him to refill it a third time was the fact that he could draw over the condensation.


	2. Cawkward

**One day after I post the story and I get three story alerts, a favourite, and a review? You people. No idea Turkey/Canada had so much love! Thank you Product Of A Sick Society for your most loverly compliments; keep it up and I'll try to post more chapters as quickly as this time! ;) **

**(My apologies for it's shortness (heehee) nonetheless, I figured this would be a good time to cut it for the next chapter.)**

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It had to have been more than thirty minutes after Sadik ordered, and the need to let out an obnoxious sigh had long since passed, or rather escalated, to the need to punch someone. Preferably the unnamed waitress, _intentionally _walking by Sadik's table with a large, delicious pasta dish only to catch eyes with him for a moment and flash a coy smile. Although the smile wasn't particularly coy, and it always came with a "I'll be right with you!", the Turk believed himself smarter than to fall for a facade of any sorts.

Briefly, Sadik quite desperately wanted to smack himself upside the head. There were no clocks to be found in the restaurant, and a watch was out of the question, (as Greece would say, "when you're old you hate the time, I suppose," followed by a series of shouts from Sadik) but it was nearly impossible not to notice the sudden increment of people wandering outside, and if the Turk wasn't caught out of his hotel room, in a perfectly not sick state, it'd have to be called a miracle.

That of which he didn't believe in all too fervently; but one could always wish.

Another marketing ploy, Sadik presumed, to take a day and a half to make a meal, then another to deliver it to the customer's table. The pure bliss experienced when a steaming, beautiful dish was placed in front of the Turk could be compared to no other. He had given up on finding company with the extremely short amount of time he had left, and instead basked in the joy of having food. Sadik wouldn't even note that the meal really wasn't all that spectacular until pushing an empty plate away with a satisfied smile, getting the cheque, shoving a complimentary mint in his face and leaving to the crowded streets outside. The latter action being nothing far from one of the Turk's larger regrets; that of which were not small either in amount or in magnitude.

Through the cluster of stranger's heads bobbing through the street, three faces stood out, and the combination couldn't have been more appropriate for the current event if Turkey picked them himself. Canada stood in the middle of their line, expression just hinting towards worried but more apathetic than anything, while America and Iran stood on either side, face's too animated in their obviously important and heated debate to decide on one emotion.

Sadik's first reaction was to duck and hide from the three - the three associates? Colleagues, perhaps? Whatever way the reaction was a smidgen too late, and seeing as though the Turk was staring directly at Canada during the time of his escape plan, it was just luck that the blonde would lift his head up to catch eyes with Sadik, no different from that damn waitress. The series of events following was easily one of the most embarrassing and awkward exchanges between two countries, people even, in the history of mankind.

Assuming himself caught, Sadik nearly threw himself upwards from his mid-duck position, attempting to look as though he was never actually ducking in the first place. For a moment he believed his plan to have worked, as the Canadian man's eyes were averted once again, but it was only a matter of seconds before Matthew shook his head and had turned to search for the Turk.

Was he really so strange as to receive a double-take?

Either way, it didn't take much longer for the blonde to spot Sadik again in the river like crowd – he quite easily displayed the perfect _rock_. It was a good thing his size was considerable, aside from the odd bumps the river went around him more than over him in his solitary state.

For five seconds Sadik stayed in his place, and Matthew had been forgotten by his quarrelling companions as they continued their walk, leaving the other two standing and staring. Strange as it wasn't for Sadik to gain more than a few odd stares in a day, the sheer awkward resonating off of every fibre of his body was enough to make the slowest of people scratch the back of their head with a strained laugh. Matthew on the other hand had simply gained a habit of not noticing if he was acting in an inappropriate manner with nearly anyone, unless in direct contact – being invisible for the most part it didn't matter if you stared at a person, they didn't know it anyways.

Long as those five seconds were, they ended in a more ungainly fashion than they started. With a smile more forced than any politician had used, Sadik gave curt wave and jogged towards the Canadian. If he acted confident enough perhaps Canada wouldn't suspect him to have skipped the meeting without any legitimate reason beside being a lazy shit.


End file.
